


i'm on the outside looking through

by SaltyPistachio



Category: Teenage Bounty Hunters (TV)
Genre: F/F, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Love Triangles, forgot to mention they're college-aged, kind of but not really because one party is fueled by lust and the other by love, may add tags as we go, people who shouldn't be falling in love WILL fall, who knows! not me!, yes the lack of capitalization is intentional
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-03
Updated: 2021-02-23
Packaged: 2021-03-15 03:34:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,879
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29182608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SaltyPistachio/pseuds/SaltyPistachio
Summary: sterling throws her head back and laughs, loud and bright, and when you turn to pick up your drink from the table, you spot april’s face.the first thing you notice is her jaw, oddly enough. usually it’s clenched tight enough that it makes your own jawbone hurt just by looking at it, but now it’s relaxed and borderline gaping. her eyes are wide and solemn and locked on your sister’s bare neck. you step into her view and her dazed expression snaps back into her usual haughty one.she stands and offers sterling her hand. “april stevens,” she says. “i’m assuming you’re blair’s sister?”sterling beams and does an awkward little bow. “sterling wesley at your service.”;;a fake dating au where relationships are strained and others are formed
Relationships: April Stevens & Blair Wesley, April Stevens/Sterling Wesley
Comments: 49
Kudos: 57





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I've written anything for fandom, and what better way to get back into it than a tropey fic that came to me just as I was falling asleep?
> 
> As I've stated in the tags, the lack of capitalization is intentional so I hope you guys bear with me on that front. Personally, I think it suits the character.

you think this is one of your stupidest plans to date, but you’re already at the airport waiting for your sister to pick you and your ‘girlfriend’ up so there’s really no turning back now.

this whole elaborate scheme is really just for your family’s benefit because you know they’re worried about you and you want them to know you’re _fine_. just because you broke up with your long-term boyfriend during midterms doesn’t mean you’re going to spiral into depression over spring break. you can move on. you can love again.

but you know your family isn’t going to see it this way, especially not your sister who knows how much of a mess you were that week after the breakup. there was a low point where you facetimed her at one in the morning in a froyo’s parking lot, sobbing about how the shop was closed and you really needed some ‘frozen fruity explosions in your mouth or you would _die’_. you had to pull yourself together to talk her out of buying a plane ticket to your side of the coast.

so, yeah, now you’re stuck deboarding a plane with a girl you can barely stand, who leans back into you, smiling up at you beatifically, and whispers in your ear, “don’t fall in love with me, wesley, or i’ll ruin you.”

then she steps away to help a little old lady with her luggage, back turned as you scrunch your face and stick out your tongue in her direction.

a couple feet away, a little boy hides his giggles behind his hands, and you shoot him your first genuine smile of the day.

//

_your plan began to take shape the second you walked into your language, gender, and sexuality class and took your usual seat behind april stevens. usually you would brush right past her, headphones in and music blaring, but that day you had left your dorm in a rush and you’d left your headphones on your bed. so when you had sat down, you got to hear as april told one of your classmates that she planned to stay on campus this break because ‘her father was a hateful bigot who would rather write a fake obituary and bury an empty casket than admit his daughter was a lesbian.’_

_you weren’t eavesdropping, it was a public conversation they were having in the middle of the room, and while april stevens wouldn’t have been your first choice, you already knew she would be going home with you. come hell or high water._

_april stevens is… a lot. she’s a know-it-all brown noser who is sometimes an ass, with a smile that kind of borders on the manic at times, but you also know she’s incredibly intelligent, ambitious to the point of cut-throat, and, best of all, a christian. all things that make her perfect wesley plus-one material._

_plus, you had to admit she’s pretty hot. she’s always perfectly made up, never a hair out of place, and she always, always has on a sheen of lip gloss that makes her smirks damn near insufferable. on days when the two of you go toe-to-toe, when even the professor sits down and lets the two of you tear into each other, you want nothing more than to lean over and just… make a mess of her. you want to tug at her hair and wrinkle her perfectly ironed shirt and more than anything you want to smear her stupid lip gloss until you’ve backed april stevens into a corner with her stubborn glare crumbling under yours._

_which is totally normal despite what your sister says. no sexual tension whatsoever._

_so with all that in mind, once the lecture ended you followed april out of the room and you stayed close enough behind her that you were able to catch a faint hint of her shampoo (strawberry) before she whirled around and slammed her palm against your breastbone. “i have campus security on speed dial so unless you have a valid reason for following me, you’ll see them in the next five minutes.”_

_“i need something from you,” you’d said. her nose wrinkled in distaste and you rolled your eyes. “not sex.”_

_you knew by the tick of her eyebrow that she was ready to say no, so you barreled on. “i need you to come home with me and pretend to be my girlfriend.”_

_she scoffed in disbelief, the corner of her mouth twitching in wary amusement, but you kept your expression carefully blank. she crossed her arms and stared you down. you might be taller but april loomed over you nonetheless. “why on earth would i do that?”_

_you paused and bit your lip. you hadn’t really thought she would need persuading. “well it’s not like you have anywhere to go,” you said, maybe a little too brusquely based on how she flinched. you lowered your eyes and softened your voice, “you shouldn’t spend your spring break locked in your room. i can’t promise wild parties and topless girls, but what about a change of scenery?”_

_“i don’t need your pity,” she spat out, her eyes blazing in fury._

_you tilted your head to the side and narrowed your eyes. “no, duh. i don’t know if you’ve been listening, but i kind of need yours.”_

_april adjusted her bag and shifted her weight from one foot to the other. “and what would i gain from this?”_

_“uh, free room and board at casa wesley?”_

_“you’ll have to do better than that.”_

_you frowned and tried to mentally calculate how much you had in your bank account. “i can give you twenty-five a day but that’s it.”_

_april stilled, and you took a startled step back at the intensity of her glare. her green eyes were glazed over in fury and anguish. “i’m not a fucking escort,” she said, her voice tight. april’s throat bobbed and her jaw visibly tensed; a vein strained along the length of her neck._

_you noticed that people walking by were giving you two a wide berth; your professor rushed past the two of you, her satchel heavy with papers and lecture notes thumping against her leg with every step she took, and shot you a side-glance, giving you a subtle thumbs up and a mouthed ‘good luck’._

_“i know,” you muttered. “i didn’t mean it like that. just kind of figured you were a broke college student and i’d pay you back through… cash. in a non-escorty way. like friends with benefits except the benefit is money and we’re not really friends.” you were digging yourself into a deeper hole but you didn’t know how to stop shoveling._

_“you’d be torn to shreds in debate,” april sniffed._

_“i didn’t know i was in one.”_

_“everything’s a debate with me, wesley,” she snapped._

_“has anyone ever told you you’re kind of intense?” she glared at you and you raised your hands in surrender. “in a hot way. very sexy librarian-like,” you assured._

_“that’s highly inappropriate.”_

_you shrug. “kind of my brand,” you modestly say._

_she still looked unimpressed but she also hadn’t left yet, so you dug up your dignity and courage, and laid out your cards on the table. “listen stevens, i’m on the edge here. metaphorically speaking. my family thinks i’m pathetic, and maybe they’re right, but i don’t want them to know that. i’ve got a reputation to maintain.”_

_“so you’re fabricating a relationship in order to prove that you’re mentally stable,” april says slowly, like she’s untangling the insane ramblings of a child._

_you stomp your foot— childishly, you know, but you can’t bring yourself to care. “are you going to help me or not?” you waspishly say. “i’ve got less than two weeks to break someone in.”_

_“charming,” she drolls._

_“stevens,” you growled in warning. you were two seconds away from either strangling her or taking all your pent-up energy and smushing your mouths together._

_(huh. maybe your sister did have a point.)_

_“fine,” she sighed heavily, rolling her eyes so violently you absentmindedly worried for her eyesight. “i suppose my generous nature can be applied to your charity case.”_

_“i’ll send in your sainthood application,” you muttered under your breath._

_april let out the tiniest snort, and you thought you’d be okay._

//

you’re waiting around the starbucks at the airport with april, passing the time by finalizing the details of your cover story, when you see a familiar face whizz by, a worried frown twisting her pretty face.

“sterl!”

she turns and a wave of affection hits your chest. it’s been so long since you’ve seen sterling outside of your pixelated phone screen that you’re startled at how blue her wide eyes are. you’re ashamed to admit you’ve forgotten how much brighter her smile is in person, and how it warms you from head to toe.

“blair!” she squeals, and next thing you know the two of you are wrapped around each other, voices rising above each others’ as you both try to drown out the loud intercom overhead and the side-conversations happening all around you.

“sterl, you look _so_ good!”

“no, you do! you’re so fit and your eyeliner is _immaculate_.”

“stop using fancy words. you know i’m only in school because of my lacrosse scholarship.”

sterling throws her head back and laughs, loud and bright, and when you turn to pick up your drink from the table, you spot april’s face.

the first thing you notice is her jaw, oddly enough. usually it’s clenched tight enough that it makes your own jawbone hurt just by looking at it, but now it’s relaxed and borderline gaping. her eyes are wide and solemn and locked on your sister’s bare neck. her brow is creased in a way you’ve only seen in class, when she’s trying to work through why chad thought his misogynistic opinion mattered in a feminism class. she’s got a problem and she’s got the answer, but she’s still frustrated. you think it might just be the airport’s lighting, but you swear her eyes begin to darken. you step into her view and her dazed expression snaps back into her usual haughty one.

she stands and offers sterling her hand. “april stevens,” she says. “i’m assuming you’re blair’s sister?”

sterling beams and does an awkward little bow. “sterling wesley, at your service,” she chirps.

april raises her eyebrows, and it’s nothing like her typical eyebrow raises. nothing like the ones she throws at you in class— unimpressed and condescending. no, this one is (dare you say)... _intrigued_. and here, you think later when you’re on the plane back to california, is where the loose thread that unraveled you begins to be picked at.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little bait and switch for y'all there lol
> 
> Anyway, comments and kudos keep me fed


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And so, we return. Just want to quickly give thanks to [writer_on_fire01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_on_fire01/pseuds/writer_on_fire01) for cleaning this chapter up! Who am I to tell all of you what to do, but I highly suggest y'all go check out their fics, especially the [Raris (Rory/Paris from Gilmore Girls) fic](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27499342/chapters/67243225) they are working on now. Imagine Stepril but early 2000s. Solid gold!

you’re guilted into sitting in the back with april, sterling throwing you a confused smile when you try to slide into the passenger seat. you grumble but hop in the back anyway, rolling your eyes when sterling opens the door for april.

“thank you,” april tells her. “i’m glad to note someone in your family has manners.” she looks at you pointedly.

“aren’t you a feminist? don’t you have your own two functional hands?” you retort. “besides, i refuse to be forced into playing the guy in our relationship just because i’m taller.”

“you’re not that much taller than me!”

“i can’t hear you from up here. buy a step stool and seduce me into my ear.”

“you’re hilarious,” she says, but the way she says it makes it sound like ‘ _eat glass_ ’.

sterling clears her throat and starts the car. “the chemistry between you two is insane.”

//

sterling and april spend the whole car ride jumping from topic to topic and you only tune in every now and then to throw in a snarky remark or two. you wonder if you’re too quiet, if sterling will pick up on it and shoot you questioning looks, but all she does is laugh along with april and send her smiles through the rearview mirror. it’s like you’re not even there.

you think you’re doing fine, nerves under control and plan firmly in place, until you’re about three blocks away from home and your leg starts shaking. you glance at it and numbly place your hand over your knee, blindly hoping it’ll make it stop, but your knee keeps bouncing. a strange lump of nerves tickles the back of your throat and the tiniest giggle comes out of you. you’re really doing this. you’re going to lie to your whole family for several days so you can show them you’re _fine_.

maybe you should check out the school’s mental health services.

no.

no, you’re blair motherfucking wesley and you can do this. if only your body would get with the stupid program.

you’re too busy psyching yourself up, you fail to see april’s hand slide into your view until she places it over yours, squeezing once and turning your hand over so she can interlock her fingers with yours. her hand fits rigidly in yours, soft and smooth and out of place. you’re used to larger hands dwarfing yours, protective and warm instead of small and cold.

she looks at you, eyes flinty and determined; _get your head in the game, wesley_ , she seems to say.

all you can do is nod weakly back.

//

sterling hasn’t completely pulled into the driveway by the time you open the door and jump out of the moving volt. you’re so full of nerves that you’re jumping from foot to foot, swinging your arms wildly about. the moment the car turns off you pop open the trunk and wrestle your bags out, ignoring april’s protests as hers fall out in the process. you bolt up the steps and swing the front door open. everything is the exact same as when you left last christmas break, except the tree is gone and the house is less festive. but the table by the living room’s entrance still has that ugly vase grandma gave your mom a couple years ago, and you spot one of chloe's toys disemboweled at the foot of the stairs. best of all, it smells like your mom’s chocolate chip cookies and it takes you back to your elementary school days, when your mom moved onto phase two of her pta coup and baked cookies every day for a solid week as a means of bribery. “hello parentals! your prodigy daughter has returned!” you grandly announce.

your dad’s head pops out from the living room doorway, his smile bright around the cookie he’s biting between his teeth. he bites half and holds the other half in his hand, stretching his arms open for a hug. you barrel towards him and bury your face into his chest, taking in the smell of the cologne you and sterling buy him every birthday mixed with a slight woodsy hint that he always has. “i think you mean prodigal,” he teases, the words rumbling through his chest and into your ears.

“pretty sure they’re the same thing.”

“maybe we should have sent you to public school instead of wasting four years worth of tuition money at willingham,” says a voice to your right. you turn and see your mom come out of the kitchen, a plate of cookies in her hand and a smile wide enough you see her crow’s feet from where you stand. you go over and wrap an arm around her shoulder, kissing her cheek and reaching for a chocolate chip cookie.

“hey, mom.” with your free hand you reach up and trace her temple. “looks like you ruined your nip and tuck.”

she pinches your side and you twist around like a worm on a string.

the door swings open again and april walks through, a demure smile tugging at her mouth. one you would almost think of as genuine if you hadn’t seen that same smile directed at the school’s pastor on sundays followed by a subsequent eye roll once his back was turned. you get it, though; pastor rick is always a little too eager to play devil’s advocate when certain controversial topics are brought up. one of the many reasons you’ve been suspended from visiting the chapel is because you turn sunday masses into debates. (another reason has to do with the time you punched a student volunteer after his hand drifted a little too far down your back.)

“hey everyone, meet april!” sterling chips as she comes in, placing april’s luggage in the foyer. you take a second to wonder if that was a girlfriend duty you were supposed to do. but if you’d done that, you wouldn’t have been able to carry in your own bags, you reason to yourself.

april steps forward and offers your dad her hand. “pleasure to meet you, mr. wesley,” she says warmly. she shakes his hand— one pump, two pumps— before she turns to your mom and does the same. “mrs. wesley, i’ve heard so much about you.” and you have to hand it to april, all that ass-kissing when it comes to professors is really playing in her favor right now. your dad is looking down at his hand with a small, half-awed smile, like he isn’t an actual honest-to-god lawyer who shakes hands with about a dozen people a day. and your mom’s smile is loose and wide instead of the thin, closed-mouthed one she uses whenever she meets someone new you’ve been seeing.

you look at sterling; ‘ _get a load of this_ ’ you want to telepathically tell her, but she’s staring at april with the strangest expression and it makes something in you roll around uneasily.

you clap your hands together. “so, where’s the food?”

//

chloe noses at your leg beneath the table and you knock your knee against her side. you’ve already given her half of your green beans and you’ve missed your mom’s cooking too much to give up even a piece of the casserole sitting on your plate. turns out you’re kind of hopeless in the kitchen, and most of your meals are pre-made or just samples you steal from the trader joe’s a block away from your school.

april is sandwiched between you and sterling, and it’s funny seeing her jump whenever chloe’s tail brushes against her leg. at school, when the two of you had been getting to know each other better to really sell this fake relationship, she had told you she thought cats were the superior pet as they were independent and regal, and you told her cats were molded by the devil himself to be witches’ familiars so it made sense that she liked cats and then she ignored you for a solid two hours afterwards.

you hear your dad talking in the background, but you’re more focused on the mashed potatoes on your plate. then april nudges you and when you look up, everyone is staring at you expectantly. “sorry, what’d i miss?”

april lets out an exasperated huff and turns to your parents, exchanging a small smile of understanding with your mom. _silly blair_ , they mock, _with her head always in the clouds_.

she pats your arm. “they want to hear the story of how we got together,” she explains.

“ohhh,” you drawl. “you mean the beginning of our epic shakespearean love story?”

“most of shakespeare’s plays are tragedies,” sterling points out unhelpfully.

“most doesn’t mean all,” you counter. “ever heard of _much ado about nothing_?”

“‘i do love nothing in the world so well as you: is not that strange?’” april recites dutifully, just as you’d practiced in her dorm. april, being the nerd she is, had memorized about a dozen of shakespeare’s lines to fully ‘capture the essence of this lackluster, and quite frankly— basic, romance’.

your dad wrestles to pin a green bean with his fork. “wow. dropping the l-word already?”

“what— lesbian? dad, we’ve been over this. i’m still very much into guys. we all agreed that was my fatal flaw.”

“i thought we all agreed it was your audacious nature,” sterling says.

“i don’t remember agreeing to that.”

“i think we’re getting a little off track here,” your mother interrupts. “what’s this about love?”

“well, when you know you know, you know?” you deadpan.

your mom’s grip on her wineglass tightens, her knuckles whitening, and her eyes narrow. you maintain eye contact as you lift your own glass to your lips, a smirk etched firmly on your face. she sets her mouth in a hard line and you know the questions you spent about a week preparing for are about to be catapulted out of her lips like they’re the cannonballs from shrek 2 trying to set your giant gingerbread man of love on fire. (you send out a quick, grateful prayer for whoever was in charge of picking the movies for your flight because that song from the fairy godmother always gets you pumped and that’s the energy you need right now to go head-to-head against your mom.)

“how’d you meet?”

“class.”

“what class?”

“gender, sexuality, and media.”

“how long have y’all been dating?”

“four months.”

your mom tilts her head, her smile suspiciously innocent. “you said three months in your text. should i pull out the receipts?”

you silently curse sterling for teaching your mom modern slang. “we went on a couple dates four months ago but didn’t make it official until a month later.”

your mom nods along slowly. “didn’t y’all meet your freshman year? what took you so long to…?” she trails off, gesturing to the space between you and april.

“compulsory heterosexuality had me in it’s grips. you _know_ this, mom,” you groan.

“that was the year blair really went over the top with her ally stuff,” sterling reminds your mom.

“was that the year you strong-armed the school into naming you grand marshal of their pride celebration?” april asks you, her brow wrinkling as she tries to remember. “that wasn’t even a title they offered. you forced them to make you a sash.”

“tv made me think there could only be one gay per family!” you hotly defend yourself. “sterling practically shoved me back in the closet when i was beginning to find myself!”

your sister’s mouth falls open in shock. “i did not!”

“did too! and it wasn’t even a cool closet that led me to a talking lion. it was dark and dingy.” you shudder dramatically, closing your eyes to maximize the effect. “it smelled of axe body spray,” you whisper.

“wardrobe,” april, sterling, and your dad all say at the same time, your dad’s voice garbled by the mashed potatoes he has in his mouth. you mom shoots him a stern look and he quickly swallows.

april clears her throat. “it’s a wardrobe that leads into narnia,” she explains. she looks down at her plate with great interest, methodically moving her food around with her fork. “my dad used to read me those books,” she says quietly.

you can see the shift happening right beside you; you see april’s shoulders curl inwards, her lips tick downwards, and her fingers tremble around the stem of her wineglass. you struggle to find something to say and you hope someone else picks up on april’s discomfort. you think your mom does— she loses her rigidness and you see her face soften as she looks at april— and you can’t see sterling from where you’re at, but she’s suspiciously silent so you have a feeling she knows something’s wrong too.

but your dad is riding his own wavelength. “i hope your folks don’t mind we stole you away this week,” he jokes, his voice stomping all over the tense atmosphere.

this snaps april out of her depressed haze. “not to worry, mr. wesley. blair actually saved me from a very lonely, book-filled break,” she says. “my dad doesn’t agree with my… lifestyle,” she finishes sarcastically.

your dad finally gives the conversation his full attention. he turns serious in a way you’re not used to seeing; his eyes focused and bright, and his mouth set in a solemn line. “well i’m sorry to hear that,” he says sincerely. “they’re missing out on a helluva kid. forgive my language.”

your mom gives him a soft smile, reaching for his hand, and you’d be disgusted by her lovesick expression if you weren’t beaming at your dad with pride. the conversation moves on after that, and you lightly tap april’s foot with yours under the table in support. she kicks you in return. yet, when sterling passes her the mashed potatoes a minute later, she gets a little half-smile in appreciation, and you huff about the unfairness of it all.

//

later, you’re brushing your teeth when the door that leads to sterling’s room opens, your sister walking through. she looks tired in a way you don’t understand considering you’re the one who spent half your day being shuffled from the airport onto a plane to another airport and then ambushed by your mom at dinner. you’re both silent as you go through your nighttime routines, your eyes occasionally catching each other’s through the mirrors. sterling always looks away first, like she’s afraid you’ll read something in her gaze that’ll make you upset. the last time she had acted this shifty was when she took your eyeliner and had used the last of it, placing it back in your bag and letting you believe you’d finished it.

you're rubbing moisturizer over your forehead and cheeks, watching sterling out of the corner of your eye, when you see her spit into the sink, open her mouth like she’s going to say something, and then sigh as she starts brushing again. it’s her third sigh in under two minutes and they keep getting progressively louder, so you move your stuff out of the way and hop onto the counter, your legs lazily swinging in the air.

“what’s up?” you ask, your tone strained and short.

she spits again and moves to rinse, moving so slow you have to look down at your feet and move them around to make sure time hasn’t actually slowed down.

“why didn’t you tell me about april?”

you look up, surprised at how quiet and _hurt_ she sounds. why didn’t you tell her? because sterling is honest and sweet, and she wouldn’t _get it_. if you told her the truth she’d look at you with wide, sympathetic eyes, tilting her head and causing her face-framing locks to slowly sway as she’d say ‘ _oh blair_ ’ in the softest voice she saves for when you’re a broken mess and need to be gently handled. that's why you didn’t tell her.

but you don’t say that; all you do is smile— a toothy, sappy grin— and say, “it just all happened really quickly. one minute i’m pushing april’s buttons, and then next thing i know, she’s pushing me. into her bed. for sexual reasons.”

sterling gives you a dubious look. “all you ever do is complain about her when we talk.”

you tip your head in agreement. “i can acknowledge her faults as a human being.”

“okay, but i remember you mentioning wanting to acquaint your fist with her face.”

“that was a euphemism.”

“sounds like domestic abuse to me,” she mutters down at the sink.

“don’t even joke about that,” you admonish. “domestic abuse is a serious issue that affects tons of women out there daily.”

“i’m sorry,” she concedes, slumping onto the counter. “i guess i’m just trying to make sense of it.”

you reach out and try to pat her head, only just grazing her ear. “don’t worry about it, dude. just know we’re deeply in love and will probably bang one out in the back of the volt sometime this week.”

she hums and you know she doesn’t believe you, but you’ve got the whole week to convince her, so you hop off and head to your room. “april wants me to take her to a museum tomorrow. feel free to third wheel,” you offer.

“are you gonna ditch me to have sex in the bathroom?”

“haven’t decided yet.”

you replay sterling’s disgusted groan over and over as you lie in bed, and it helps lull you to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School has officially started once more so I'm not sure when the third chapter will be up, but hopefully sometime before the end of the month
> 
> Comments are like little letters I enjoy getting, so if you’ve got any spare words to spend, throw them my way please
> 
> If y'all need me, I will be on [tumblr](https://saltypistachio.tumblr.com/)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> once agin, this was beta-ed (?) by [writer_on_fire01](https://archiveofourown.org/users/writer_on_fire01/pseuds/writer_on_fire01) so you can thank her for cutting down my commas and fixing all typos.

you wildly swing the steering wheel around and cackle at april’s terrified gasp in the backseat, followed by sterling’s rambling assurances that you know what you’re doing. it’s honestly what april deserves for forcing you to take her to a museum almost two hours away instead of settling for the one in downtown atlanta. you’d even offered to pay for her entrance ticket to the world of coca-cola, but she was adamant it had to be an art museum in athens. something about some exhibit that had just opened up and that her class had discussed. you’d tuned out after the first couple of sentences, but sterling had seemed into it— she’d kept nodding along and asking questions— so you had figured she could fill you in later.

you finally skid into the parking lot, lightly kissing the curb with the volt’s wheels, and accidentally roll over a cement parking block. you take a brief second to debate whether you should back up now or later— when you’re leaving— but quickly decide to just say ‘fuck it’ and turn the car off. you throw your arm around the passenger seat and whip around to face sterling and april.

“made it under two hours!” you crow triumphantly.

“yes, and you almost killed us in the process. on three separate occasions.” april’s usual bite is undercut by how hard she’s gripping onto her seatbelt. you blow out some air from the side of your mouth and wave your hand around dismissively.

“sometimes you just have to put your life in the lord’s hands and go with his master plan.”

“i don’t think deliberately asking to be t-boned is the way to do it,” sterling notes. you scowl at her betrayal and she wilts under your hard stare. “but you totally had the situation handled.”

you usher april out of the car and link your arm with hers, offering her a tight smile and leaving sterling to scramble behind.

//

you pluck a flimsy pamphlet from the stand they’re in and open it as noisily as possible, ignoring the withering glare you’re getting from beneath the ticket lady’s half-moon glasses. she’s ancient and smells like the candies your grandma used to put in your stocking when you’d spend christmas with her and big daddy, so you don’t really care if she wants you to drop dead.

sterling helps you with one end of the revealed map and april leans into your other side, her chin resting on your shoulder as her perfume swirls around you, and points to a seemingly random outlined section.

“that’s where we need to go.”

you hum, and next to you sterling reaches out to trace a dotted line on the map. “if we follow this path, we can hit all the exhibits and save that one for last.”

“why not visit that one first and then see if we want to do the rest,” april asks, a challenge posed beneath the polite smile she wears.

“if? you mean you don’t even want to see all of it?” sterling asks incredulously, gesturing down towards the hall that leads into the museum in all its cultured glory.

“i’m cool with just hitting one and heading back home,” you chime in.

“we drove two hours to get here!”

“yeah, and now i’m starving. you owe me some food,” you say, directing the last part towards april.

“you’re ridiculously high maintenance,” she replies primly. sterling hides a chuckle beneath a cough. you pout, lower lip jutting out dramatically, and step in front of april.

you lift up the hem of your t-shirt (a lamb of god tour t-shirt sterling had found in a thrift shop in boston while she was on a date. the guy didn’t last, but the shirt had made its way home to you this past christmas.) and pat your abs. “they need to be fed, babe.”

april’s eyes glaze over, even as her lips turn downwards in false disgust. “i’m surprised they’re still around, even after all that food you inhale daily.”

you do a body roll, slow and sensual and way too erotic for a museum, and you laugh at how quickly april looks away.

“blair,” sterling snaps, the map crumpled in her hands.

you drop your hem in surprise, your stomach now properly covered. “what?”

“i just— i don’t want to get kicked out before we even go in.”

“technically, we’re already in. and if the rest of the museum looks like this, then they’d be doing us a favor by kicking us out now.”

“no, sterling’s right,” april says, her cheeks pinker than usual. she gives your sister a sheepish half-smile in apology. sterling turns and frowns into the pamphlet, pretending to read it, and you see april’s smile falter at the unexpected cold shoulder.

you nudge her forward and waltz ahead, throwing one last friendly wave to your good friend the ticket lady. “how soundproof do you think the bathrooms are?”

you’re in a room full of little sculptures and clay pots and broken-off pieces of limestone walls you _know_ were stolen away from their homelands to be put on display. the three of you are spread out around the room, each of you going at your own pace. you more or less breeze on by, finding the funniest looking things and trying to recreate the faces carved into the old artifacts. april spends about a solid minute on each object, reading the title cards and glancing over the art and then moving on. sterling, on the other hand, lingers on each one; she leans into every display— careful not to catch a reprimanding glare from the security guard by the doorway— and really soaks in the oldness of it all. her eyes flicker over every facet of the art— every crevice and crack— and you want to roll your eyes because she’s taking forever to move on, but you also want to stay in this moment forever. this little bubble of solitude where the three of you orbit around each other and where the only appropriate mode of conversation is through whispers. it feels almost illegal to raise your voice above that.

so that’s why it startles you when a middle-aged couple walks in, loudly discussing the origins of modernism while a sulky teenager slinks in after them. the couple seem like the type that call themselves ‘cultured’ unironically and you already half-hate them for that. the kid seems cool enough though. she’s wearing some corduroy overalls with a floral, almost tacky button-up underneath. really, it shouldn’t look as half as good but you think what really sells it is her overall ‘fuck off-ery’ attitude mashed with some bold, killer blue eyeshadow that makes her eyes pop, even from where you’re standing at the other end of the exhibit.

you don’t really think about her much after that first impression until you’re two rooms away, and you notice she’s flowed into the same room as your little trio. out of the corner of your eye you see as she trails after april, throwing her small glances. you tilt your head as she finally catches up with april, lips moving as she starts a conversation, tucking some curled hair behind a tiny red ear, and your eyes widen as you finally figure out what’s happening.

your head whips over in sterling’s direction, who is watching the two girls with a very perplexed expression plastered across her face, and, like she can feel your outraged confusion, she turns to meet your stare.

_pump the brakes, i think this pimply-faced teenager is trying to get with my girl right in front of me!_

_i’m pretty sure she’s just, like, asking for directions or complimenting her… shoes or something._

_sterling, i love you, but you’re pretty naive when it comes to this whole ‘women-loving-women’ thing. it’s a dog-eat-dog world out here! or, like, a pussy-eat-pussy world._

_first of all, i love you too. second of all, ew. third of all, i’m literally a part of the community, so..._

_yeah, but you’ve never actually dated a girl._

_i’ve hooked up with one!_

_dating and hooking up with are two different things— that’s not the point!_

_the point is that you’re overreacting._

_no! the general thesis of my argument—_

_college changed you. also, i don’t think you’re using that correctly._

_— is that you’re clearly the gayest looking one here and yet she goes straight to april? who’s very clearly taken? this chick is challenging me!_

_april’s not a toy to be fought over; she’s a person. and what are you talking about? i think i’m dressed… casually._

_that’s casual?_

_yeah._

_sterl, you look like some sort of gay professor on your way to give a lecture on how to go down on women._

you both look down at sterling’s clothes; a white button-up with her sleeves rolled up to the middle of her forearms where she has a camel-colored overcoat resting, and black jeans that give her a very ‘i’m distinguished without even trying’ air. but you know how hard she tried. it took her a solid half-hour to get dressed this morning; she kept running into her closet to pull out shirts she hadn’t worn in years and framing them against herself in the mirror.

“what are you doing?”

you whirl around to face april, who somehow snuck up on you while you were busy reasoning with your twin. you broadly gesture behind you to where sterling is standing.

“i’m talking to sterling.”

april measures the yards-long distance between you and your sister with a judgmental eyebrow raise, her lips curling in a barely noticeable, unimpressed sneer. “…right. well when you’re done with whatever delusional mental breakdown is currently happening, come find me in the ‘power and piety’ room.”

you _tsk_ disapprovingly. “skipping ahead? sterl’s gonna be very disappointed.”

april scoffs derisively, but her eyes flit over to sterling’s corner. her jaw works as she mulls over what to do. “maybe i’ll wait then…”

“no! no, go have fun with your new best friend-slash-girlfriend, cradle robber!” your voice is too loud and too accusatory, but you really want to play up the jilted lover aspect. to be the elizabeth bennet in the face of april’s mr. darcy. (a reference you know because, _hello_ , it seems like a phase most high school girls get into and sadly, it was one sterling dragged you through.)

(personally, you dug the brontë sisters more than austen.)

(sparknotes version.)

april smiles widely, a stony thing full of bitter gravel, and hisses, “i hope your future children leave their legos out one night and you maim yourself.”

your resounding gasp echoes all throughout the museum.

you’re in a room full of statues— large, marble, white ones where all the guys have small penises and all the ladies have weak chins. you think that if anyone ever offered to immortalize you, you’d ask them to _enhance_ your assets; to make your chest bigger, your jawline chiseled, and your ass round and firm. you’d want people to look at you and cry at what they missed out on in their lifetime.

you’re in front of one particular statue, one where two men are entangled so that you can’t really tell where one starts and the other ends, when sterling slides in next to you. you lost her a couple of rooms ago; you’re pretty sure she’s been following april from a distance, like some sort of beanpole bodyguard.

but now she’s here, her breathing slightly irregular, and you make a mental note to ask her to go on a run with you sometime this week because you care about her and you don’t want her to drop dead by the time she’s forty.

“blair.”

“not now, sterl. i’m trying to figure out if this is purposefully erotic or if the artist was secretly closeted.”

“blair.”

“could be the third option that he made this as a beacon for other gays—“

“blair.”

“—as a da vinci code. like, ‘hey y’all, if you get this, welcome to the club. the secret password for the speakeasy is… dolly.’”

“blair.”

“oh my god, what?”

“i think you were right,” she whispers, urgent.

“always.” you pause. “about what?”

“that girl is totally trying to get with april.”

you roll your eyes in exasperation. “no _doy_.”

sterling gapes in distress. “aren’t you going to do something about it?”

“why should i?”

“because she’s your girlfriend?” she asks indignantly.

“she’s her own person before anything,” you mockingly remind her. “besides, i once saw april take down a frat boy with a single punch. she’ll be fine.”

sterling gulps, the tips of her ears reddening. “she did that?”

“yup,” you confirm. “she lifts.”

“oh. wow.”

you shrug. “half of la works out. she’s not special.”

sterling makes a tiny noise of dissent that you promptly ignore. she sucks in a deep breath and nods once, resolutely. “i’m going in.”

“use protection,” you reply instinctively. “wait, no. sorry, what’re you doing?”

“i’m going to get april out of there,” sterling says, eyes narrowing as she looks at the room she came from. you throw your head back and groan, a low and guttural sound you draw up from within you.

“why? literally, why are you like this? sterling, you are the most important person in the world to me— next to chloe, of course—“

“she’s not a person but okay.”

“—and you know i’m always one hundred percent behind you on everything. most things. some things. on things,” you settle on. “but i’ve got to draw the line somewhere. becoming a stalker is so not the career path you should take. aim higher.”

sterling stomps her foot like the adorable, misguided, petulant child she is. “i just want to make sure she’s okay.”

“if she goes missing i will personally call all the milk carton-making companies i know and hand-deliver her picture for the back of their cartons,” you solemnly vow.

“you’re the worst,” she grumbles. she whirls around and briskly walks away before stopping, turning, and running back to you, throwing her arms around you for an impromptu hug. “i didn’t mean that. you’re the best person i know and i love you so much.”

you pat her back reassuringly. “love you too, dum-dum.”

as you walk out, the guard stationed by the door throws you a subtle thumbs up. “love is love.”

“gross, dude.”

there’s a garden-slash-outdoor art installation in the museum and you wander around, waiting to be found. you get bored enough that you take out your phone and start practicing tiktok dances, almost being escorted out by a security guard who’s apparently been watching you from a camera for about fifteen minutes (which, _weird_ ), but you’re saved when you hear a familiar giggle. you angle around the guard to see sterling and april ambling around. well, sterling is ambling; april’s just walking slowly but with purpose.

you point in their direction. “i’m with them,” you tell him. you flounce away before he can turn back to you.

they’ve got their backs towards you and they don’t even turn around when you stomp up to them. in fact, it’s like they were wrapped up in their own little world based on how they jump when you squeeze into the small space they left between them. you sling your arms around their shoulders and lean your full weight forwards, your tippy-toes the only point of contact with the ground. they stagger under your weight and you feel light enough that you press a swift kiss by april’s ear. she tenses and looks at you; she’s wondering if you want the favor returned. you shrug and do the same to sterling. _she_ gives you a goofy grin in response.

“so what have you two been up to?” you ask.

sterling immediately goes bright red, and her lips press together in a sheepish smile. you prod her cheek and she shrugs you off. you cling to april, and when you trip over nothing, she instinctively wraps her arm around your waist to steady you.

“what trouble has our sterl been getting into, babe?”

april sighs, long and annoyed and all for show. (she should really change her major to theatre for all the drama she likes to exude.) “she made a teenager cry.”

“she didn’t cry!” sterling protests.

“her eyes were suspiciously glassy.”

“it’s allergy season.”

“we were indoors.”

“it was really dusty in there. in fact, i’d call it a health hazard. not to be _that person_ , but someone should call the—“

“don’t! don't you dare!” you cut in. “over my dead body will you become a karen. i can see it happening to april twenty, thirty years from now, but not you, sterl!”

april huffs into your ear but doesn’t argue. _wesley: 1. stevens: …undetermined_

there’s a beat of comfortable silence where the only sounds are the soothing tones of the fountain in front of you and the annoying squawks of the crows above you.

“i should probably go apologize. i was a little harsher than expected.”

both you and april roll your eyes at the same time. “you accosted a minor,” april remarks. “you’ll worsen the situation by returning to the scene of the crime.”

sterling’s mouth falls open in distress. “you’re making it sound like i murdered her or something.”

“you might as well have,” you say judiciously. “the poor kid will probably never emotionally recover.”

“stop it!” sterling whines, her shoulders slumping. “you weren’t even there!”

you shrug carelessly. “didn’t have to be. i just know things.” you pause and straighten, pulling away from april to cross your arms judgmentally. “although what i _don’t_ know is why you guys are bffs all of a sudden. should i drop you two off at the nearest ymca so you can make some matching friendship bracelets?”

“don’t you want your girlfriend and your sister to get along?” april asks, words drenched in condescension.

“what do you guys even talk about?”

“your embarrassing phases,” sterling answers easily.

“and sterling’s terrible taste,” april quips.

“don’t knock on warhol!”

“his most notable achievement was painting a soup can.”

“don’t forget marylin monroe,” you interject. “may she rest in peace. fuck hugh hefner. can i get an amen?”

“amen,” sterling indulges you.

april shakes her head sadly. “god help them.”

you have a feeling she’s not talking about warhol, marylin, or hefner.

//

you stop at a diner about ten minutes away from the museum. the yelp reviews aren’t great, but according to a mr. ‘rawme g’ with a very credible muppet profile picture, if you order the ‘atlas’— a three pound hamburger— and eat it under forty-five minutes, the whole table’s meal is free. you’ve seen enough mukbangs to be confident in your eating abilities, and so you somehow talked sterling and april into coaching you through it. (in reality, you talked sterling into it and april had no choice but to go along since you were her ride.)

the diner is retro in the way that it’s supposed to be old and cutesy, but most of the led lights flicker sadly and the cushions on the swivel chairs are beginning to come apart at the seams. there’s a jukebox in the corner that ate two of your dollars; it plays the songs but skips every other lyric, sometimes stopping completely until a waitress rolls by and smacks it with their fist. rolls by as in literally rolls, because all the waitresses have on roller-skates. (you suspect the cooks do too, but you can’t see their feet. they glide suspiciously smooth by the service hatch, too slick for it to be steps.)

the three of you find a booth by the window, april sliding in on one side and sterling sitting opposite of her. you choose to sit next to your ‘girlfriend’ and, after a brief hesitation, you lace your fingers with hers over the tabletop.

your waitress, a girl that barely looks old enough to be in high school, stumbles to a stop in front of you. she crashes into your table, slamming the menus down as she stabilizes herself, causing the ketchup bottle by the napkin dispenser to fall over. you lean down and see that her pad covered knees have knocked inwards. you look up to see sterling half-glaring at you.

_she’s going to drop our food._

_most likely._

_can we go? there’s food at home._

_ew, who are you— mom?_

_mom’s usually right about things, so i’ll take that as a compliment._

_you really shouldn’t. besides, i’m treating you to a free meal— stop complaining._

_i’m still not sure you can do this._

_you never believe in my goals._

_that’s not true! only the unrealistic ones._

_name one that wasn’t realistic._

_professional go-kart racer by twenty._

_…fair enough. but uncle deacon sabotaged my rising career in that sled incident of twenty-fifteen. i bet mom and dad paid him off—_

“i’m sorry about that,” the waitress apologizes, her smile edging on mortified. her face is as red as her hair, and she reaches up to fiddle with her glasses in a flustered motion. “i’m still getting the hang of it,” she admits.

“clearly,” april mutters, not quiet enough to go unheard. the girl’s face begins to drop and you lean towards her, blocking the side of your mouth from april so that your next words are a loud secret between you and the waitress.

“sorry about my girlfriend. she’s one of those hangry types. like a walking snickers commercial. ‘you’re not you when you’re hungry!’ she’s usually unbearably polite… to strangers.”

“may we have the menus, please?” sterling politely cuts in. she’s wearing her sunday church smile, the one usually reserved for the old, white people you’ve known basically your whole life and yet still call you ‘the brunette one’. it’s the ‘we’ve got to end this now or someone’s going to come out seriously offended’ smile.

the waitress hands over the menus, but you wave yours away. “i’ll have the atlas, please and thank you.” you raise a finger, playing up the importance of your next words. “timed.”

the girl gives you a dubious once-over. “are you sure? most people that try that challenge don’t look like you.”

you smile warmly, lifting a hand to your chest and placing it over your steady heart. “i’m flattered, but my girlfriend is right here.”

“that’s not what— i didn’t mean— i—“

“you can have her,” april interrupts absently. she’s lazily flipping through the laminated pages of the worn-down menu, back too straight and overall manner too proper for this rinky-dink diner. “i suggest you keep advil on hand. she’ll give you headaches.”

“she says the sweetest things.”

you’re fiddling with the rim of your glass, watching april take a sip of her black coffee and quickly put it down. you don’t know why she asked for it; it’s not like she’s going to finish it. you’ve seen her get the same thing in the mess hall at school and she always leaves her cup full to the brim. you secretly think she does it to seem more mature. (a surge of affection rises within you and you do your best to beat it down brutally.)

the air conditioning rattles to life and you and april shiver in unison as the vent above you blasts you with cold air. sterling stands and taps the tabletop to grab your attention.

“i’ll be back.”

you nod and follow as she moves around the tables and rolling waitresses to reach the door. april shifts next to you and your head lolls to the side to watch her. she’s attempting to drink her coffee again and you take the cup from her hands, placing it across the table by sterling’s neapolitan milkshake.

“stop it,” you instruct gruffly. “you’re going to work yourself into a mood and i don’t want to deal with that.”

“well i don’t want to deal with you, yet here i am,” she snaps back.

your eyebrows climb your forehead. “hey, you agreed to this,” you remind her.

“against my better judgement.”

“you didn’t have to help.”

april straightens the napkin dispenser. “who else would you have asked?” she doesn’t sound genuinely curious; she’s trying to make a point, and you’re starting to feel your regular frustration with her begin to build beneath your skin, your fingers twitching in annoyance.

“you’re the scum beneath my shoe,” you spit out. you have no idea why that was the first thing out of your mouth, but you’re satisfied to see it hit. april looks furious now, her lips strained and collarbone pronounced as she holds her breath.

“and you’re the wind beneath my wings,” she hisses, echoing words you yelled at her over loud music more than a year ago.

something wild and desperate takes hold of you. you’ve known april since freshman orientation— when she crashed into you and broke your lamp and then snapped at you for not cleaning up the glass on the floor fast enough— and your lives are tangled brambles by now. two lifelines that crossed and crossed and crossed, and for all your pruning, you can’t shake her. “did you hate me before the party?”

she stills, her eyes intensely focused on sterling’s straw. “i wouldn’t waste my time hating you,” she evades.

“but you don’t like me,” you note. “not as much as you like sterling, anyway.” you take a sip of water and wait, but april remains silent. “you can’t like one twin more than the other. that’s, like, illegal,” you continue. “you guys literally just met and you’ve smiled at her more than me in the last three years we’ve known each other.”

she turns to you, little flecks of gold shining through the green of her eyes. “ _you_ called me a cougar.”

“cradle robber.”

“same thing.”

you look at each other, and something between you two breaks— eases. someone starts giggling, then laughing, and the other follows shortly after. the vent above still spews cool air but the sun spilling through the large glass window is warm and the feel of april’s shaky laughter next to you sparks a low flame in your belly.

the bell above the entrance door chimes and sterling makes her way back, her overcoat in her hands.

she towers over you as she hands it over. “i don’t want you getting sick.” she says it to you but her eyes flicker to april. you take the hint and fling it over the shorter girl’s shoulders, the coat billowing open and hitting the glass picture window. sterling sits back down, scooting into her corner as your clumsy waitress comes to a stop in front of your table, the black tray with all your food tilting precariously in her arms.

you cheer when she sets it down, loud and free, and feel no shame when the other few customers and staff turn to look at you. not when the poor kid ducks her face in embarrassment, her smile too bright to hide; and not when april’s sporting a small grin in support, her fingers fiddling with the coat’s buttons; and definitely not when sterling claps along with you, her excited whoops mixing in well with your pathetic yet enthusiastic air horns.

you forget you ever asked a question in the first place.

you’ve made a terrible mistake.

you think you’re going to throw up all over the table, covering april’s fruit bowl and sterling’s grilled chicken wrap with an avalanche of vomit. you eye sterling’s side of fries sadly; they look delicious— crisp and a golden brown— and you really want some but you’re only halfway through your burger and the clock is winding down.

you release a tiny burp, your hazy mind trying to focus on whatever sterling and april are talking about. their voices edge in and out of your mind, like when you’re out shopping and the grocery store plays a couple of songs; it’s familiar and faint, but still present and easy enough to follow if you try.

“first kiss?”

“freshman year of college. her name was alison.” april wrinkles her nose in distaste at whatever memory she’s replaying in her head. like if her nose scrunches up enough, the memory will just fall out, to be swept away at the end of the diner’s day.

“that bad?” sterling asks sympathetically.

“she went in tongue first.”

sterling lets out a strangled noise, a half-laugh half-groan. “ _no_.”

“i felt like i was going to drown in a sea of her slobber,” april confides, tone deadpan but eyes glinting playfully.

you sluggishly jostle her shoulder, a lazy smirk pulling at your lips. “you still dated her afterwards,” you jab.

april stabs a piece of melon. “it was flattering. she made me feel wanted.” her words are clipped, but her face betrays her. her lips twitch, a sad little smile forming, and her eyes are distant. “it’s stupid,” she admits quietly.

sterling lunges across the table to grasp april’s free wrist. her sudden movement causes you to jump in surprise, your knee hitting the underside of the table and you bend over in pain. “no, it’s not. i _do_ think it’s stupid to think people wouldn’t want you,” she says earnestly, almost urgently, her eyes wide and insistent. “april, you’re _incredible_. you’re, like, _so_ smart and your smile is—“ sterling falters, flushing under your gaping stare and april’s carefully shuttered shock. “—it’s really nice,” she finishes lamely.

she pulls her hand away, still resting it between them but not touching april anymore. april’s hand slides across, breaching the remaining distance but not fully embracing the closure. her fingers twitch and they brush against sterling’s, the point of contact merely a kiss between fingertips.

“thank you.” april’s voice is oddly sincere, and you shift uncomfortably in your seat. you feel like you’re butting in on a private moment and you have half a mind to ask the waitress to relocate you so you can eat your hamburger in peace.

but she saves you without you even asking. she rolls through the serving doors and you see it all happen in slow-motion. her skates lose their grip for, like, half a second and she tilts forward, arms swinging wildly to regain balance. unfortunately, she was carrying a tray full of food. soon enough, both plates and mood are broken.

you finish your atlas with two minutes to spare and you’ve never felt more accomplished of anything in your entire life.

then you stand up too fast and you’re knocked back down by stupid gravity and a lightheadedness you didn’t feel twenty minutes ago. sterling forcibly takes the keys from you and guides you to the car, all the servers lining up down the aisle to salute you. april walks behind and occasionally reaches out to grab your shoulder when you start to sway backwards.

you get half-an-hour into the car ride before you have to ask sterling to pull over.

you throw up onto gravel, broken bottles, and a deflated opossum.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm in the process of outlining future projects and I'm curious, would you guys rather read a Sterling Culpepper au or a Greek Mythology au first? If you have an opinion, please let me know.
> 
> Anyway, I hope y'all enjoyed this chapter and I will see you all next time! If y'all need me, I will be on [tumblr](https://saltypistachio.tumblr.com/)


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